


loving too late in the night

by cryoreal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Jonsa Smut Week, Oral Sex, Smut, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-07 17:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12845724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryoreal/pseuds/cryoreal
Summary: Sansa Stark hasn't had an orgasm in eight months. Jon Snow hasn't been with a woman in twice that long. Neither of them have ever had a casual hookup before. Margaery schemes behind the scenes to hook them up and get them off. Written for Jonsa Smut Week on Tumblr for day 1: trying something new.





	1. Chapter 1

“Holy shit, Marg, he’s here,” Sansa whispered reverently.

“Who’s here?” Margaery didn’t pause for a second, winding her way through the crowded Starbucks with the ease of a professional coffee drinker.

“That hot barista. I can’t remember his name but the last time we were here he _winked_ at me.”

“All the more reason not to stop,” Margaery smirked at her, making her way to the counter after brushing her hair back off her face. 

Margaery placed her order with ease, even passing off a lopsided grin to the man behind the counter before ushering Sansa forward. Her cheeks felt like open flames, but she managed to mumble out her request for a latte and pay without making a fool of herself.

“Give him your number,” Margaery suggested as soon as Sansa sidled up to her side, clutching her wallet with sweaty palms.

“Marg, I don’t just give out my number,” Sansa mumbled, mortified. When she glanced back up, the barista shot her a cocky grin, and she ducked her head. “He heard you, bitch.”

“That’s the point,” Margaery pointed out, and when Hot Barista came over, drinks in hand, he lingered at the counter longer than necessary. 

“Thank you,” Sansa murmured, taking her coffee from his hand, and when he said “You’re welcome,” she finally got the courage to look him in the eyes.

His facial structure was really unfair, and his hair was pulled back into a bun that only accentuated his jawline. She realized she was staring when Margaery finally said, “Oh my GOD,” and slapped a napkin down on the counter.

“Here, Hot Barista. Her name is Sansa, as you know, and this is her number. Call her sometime and shake her out of this funk.” 

Sansa made to snatch the napkin off the counter as Margaery slid it over, but Hot Barista was faster, stuffing it into the pocket of his pants. 

When Margaery tugged her elbow to guide her away, Sansa managed a weak wave at Hot Barista, who only smirked at her as he turned back to another drink.

Once they were outside, Sansa managed to contain her shock enough to slap Margaery on the arm. “Thanks for that. Now I’m never going to be able to get coffee here again.”

“I don’t think so, darling. I think you’re going to be getting coffee much more often than you used to,” Margaery threw back with a saucy wink, swaying her hips suggestively.

*****

It was late that evening when her phone finally buzzed, and Sansa snatched it off the couch next to her eagerly.

**Hi Sansa, this is Hot Barista. How are you tonight?**

Her hands shook a little as she read it, clutching her phone nervously. 

**I’m doing well tonight, how are you?**

It was only a few long moments before he responded again, and Sansa turned down the volume on the TV so that she could focus on her phone.

**I could be better ;)**

Her heart stuttered to a stop. _He could be better? With a winky face? Does that mean…_

Sansa could feel her cheeks burning already. Her thumbs hesitated over the screen, unsure how to respond. She never took part in hookup culture, didn’t know how to use Tinder, and was altogether clueless. 

She wanted Hot Barista, to be sure. But a feelingless hookup was something altogether new to Sansa Stark, who hadn’t had sex since her last boyfriend dumped her eight months before. 

She was about to just chuck her phone across the couch when it buzzed again in her hand.

**I’ve been attracted to you since the first time I saw you. I’m going to send you my address, and if you want to come over for a bit, my door is open. No pressure.**

Her heart about stopped, and his text was followed quickly by a map ping showing his address. He actually lived pretty close, only about a block and a half away, and she could just walk over there quickly… 

She exited out of their conversation and instead pulled up her contacts, calling Margaery.

“Did he call you?” she answered without any preamble.

“Hello to you too, Marg. He texted and he gave me his address and I don’t know if I should go.” Sansa was pacing her living room now, her gaze occasionally darting over to her bedroom door. 

“You should definitely go!”

“But what if he’s a creepy murderer?” Sansa practically whined, and she heard Margaery puff over the phone.

“He’s not a murderer, for fuck’s sake. He’s my history TA.”

“What?” Sansa sputtered, freezing halfway to her bedroom. “You never told me you knew him. You called him Hot Barista!”

“Don’t be dramatic. His name is Jon, he’s quite smart and very sweet, and I told him last week I’d give him your number so he could stop pining after you. This way was just… convenient.”

“You set me up,” Sansa accused, waving her finger. “You know I don’t do hookups.”

“I did no such thing, and it’s high time you try something new because what you’ve been doing hasn’t been working. Now, go to your room and find that nice blue lingerie set I bought you for your birthday last month, put it on, and go get him. You need this just as much as he does.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Sansa muttered as she stalked into her room, digging through her drawers for the panties she had buried at the back. 

“You’ll thank me tomorrow.” Sansa heard her phone beep mutedly as Margaery hung up, and she cursed under her breath. 

Twenty minutes later, she had covered up the racy set with jeans and a soft sweater, and she headed out the door to find his apartment. 

She stared at the door for a good thirty seconds, contemplating whether or not to ring the buzzer. Her phone buzzed first, and she pulled it out to kill more time before she had to pull the trigger.

**I can see you standing out there. Wanna come up?**

_Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ she chanted internally, before texting back a “yes, please.”

The door hummed as it unlocked and she let herself in, jogging up a flight of stairs and a twist to the left before she was standing in front of what she thought was his door. 

Sansa knocked tentatively once, twice, and the door swung open immediately.

Hot Barista grinned at her. _His name is Jon,_ she reminded herself, and she smiled back before slipping inside, letting him shut the door behind her.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, turning the lock on the door. 

He was dressed casually, in black sweatpants and a grey v-neck shirt, every body part outlined and accentuated perfectly. His hair was down for the first time that she’d seen, and loose curls bounced near his shoulders as he turned back to face her, looking nervous for the first time that she had seen.

“I didn’t think so either.” She slid her flats off next to the door, and Jon took a step forward to crowd her against the wall.

“Margaery tells me you’re in a bit of a rut.” 

“She tells me the same for you,” Sansa bit back, heart racing, and Jon chuckled a little. 

“You could say that.” He reached up to drag a hand across her collarbone, and she shuddered imperceptibly. 

When he leaned down to brush a kiss over her cheek and then her lips, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, leaning in to fully kiss him back. He tasted like mint and heat, and she moaned into his mouth when his hand dipped down to rest on her ribcage, right beneath the swell of her breast.

He guided her backward through his apartment, around a corner and down a hallway, and when the back of her knees knocked against something soft, she pulled away to look in his eyes.

“Is this okay?” Jon whispered, brushing her hair back over her shoulders, and she had to swallow back her shakiness before nodding, reaching down to his hips to tug at the hem of his shirt until he had tossed it into a corner.

When she ran his hands down his chest, he was the one to shudder, closing his eyes as her fingernails gently scraped over his hipbones. 

Sansa yanked his sweats over his hips to reveal his cock, half-hard and warm when she palmed it eagerly, needing to take control. 

She was still fully dressed but she enjoyed the sight of his naked body too much to care, running her hand down his length over and over again until he was rock solid in her grasp, his head tipped back with a moan when she rubbed the underside of his head tentatively.

Sansa placed a gently, questioning kiss on the hipbone that she had scratched only a moment ago, and when he met her eyes his were full of a dark fire. 

When she closed her lips over his tip his hips jerked automatically and she steadied them with a gentle hand on his ass, gripping it firmly as she slowly slid her mouth down. It had been too long since she had done this last, and so she eased herself into it, letting her mouth adjust to the feel of him. 

When he hit the back of her throat finally and she let out a moan around him, his entire body shuddered. She bobbed back up and down again, letting him twist his hands into her hair but setting the pace herself, a torturous slip of her tongue against the underside of him, taking him as far as she could manage before backing up to suckle on the tip, swallowing down beads of precum that leaked onto her tongue with every jerk of his hips.

She kept pace for several slow moments before he finally tugged on her hair, his eyes half lidded and glassy as she popped his cock free of her mouth. 

“You’re monopolizing me,” he mumbled as he brought her to her feet, yanking her sweater off eagerly.

“I didn’t hear you complaining a moment ago.”

When his eyes fell to the deep blue fabric and lace covering her breath, he actually licked his lips before dropping his lips to her neck, pressing open, wet kisses to her skin before sucking a dark bloom onto the skin near her collar. 

He fumbled with the clasp for a moment before she was able to shake her bra straps down her arm and toss it with the rest of their clothes and then her breasts got the same treatment as her neck, leaving not one but three bruises over her pale skin before rolling his tongue around her nipple a few times. 

Her jeans slid off quickly after that and they tumbled into his bed together, Sansa giggling as he tried to maintain contact with her skin while getting both of them under the covers together. 

She wasn’t laughing at all, though, when his hand slid down her belly to the apex of her thighs, stroking over the last piece of fabric left on either of their bodies. 

“Did you put this on for me?” he purred into her ear, and Sansa’s eyes fluttered shut. 

“Yes,” she breathed back, focused on his hand making slow strokes over her, resisting the urge to roll her hips upward into his motions.

“How did you know that blue was my favorite color?” His fingers were playing with the hemline now, just barely dipping inside, and she whined needily.

“Did Margaery tell you? She’s been a fantastic wingman.” One finger sought out her wetness, slipping inside of her just barely and she keened for him, wriggling her hips without abandon. 

He traced up her slit, spreading her open while he rubbed her clit, his other arm caught underneath her as she snuggled into his body, her hips rolling in a rhythm now. 

“Beautiful girl,” he mumbled, lips pressed to her temple, and it was all Sansa could do to take deep, steadying breaths and writhe her hips. It had been too long, in truth, and his fingers were dancing on her clit in a way that she could never replicate and she could feel herself spiraling already, hips snapping into his hand as she moaned headily, letting her orgasm run its course as she relaxed down into the bed, his fingers still moving lazily between her nub and her entrance, spreading her wetness around.

When she finally shook the tightness from all of her limbs, Jon tipped her face sideways to kiss her deeply. His tongue probed into her mouth and she opened gladly for him, running shaking fingers down his bicep and forearm when he pressed his body against hers snugly, his chest to her back. 

She could feel his cock slipping wetly against her lower back and she arched against him, spreading her legs just enough so that he slid between them, rubbing against her wet pussy while he thrust against her.

It took a moment of maneuvering before she could arch her back enough to let him slide inside her, both letting out a long sigh as his hips canted up into her ass. She let him set the pace at first, the friction nearly unbearable as he thrust into her deeply, one hand massaging her ass. 

When she’d finally had enough of the slow pace he set, Sansa rocked her hips back against him meaningfully, letting her ass smack into him with a satisfying noise. She heard him hum in appreciation before he came back at her harder, increasing his pace just enough to frustrate her more. 

“Faster,” she whimpered over her shoulder, and she thought she heard him chuckle before his hips slammed into her again and again, leaving her wordless and breathless, focused only on the feeling of his cock driving into her. 

His mouth was soft on her back but his cock was harder than anything she’d ever felt, and when his hands dropped down to stroke her nub again she cried out loudly, letting him drive her higher and higher.

The combination of his dancing fingers and thrusting cock drove her over the edge again, and she could feel herself squeezing tight around him as she shook against his chest, his hips making an obscene slapping sound against her ass as he finally let out a long groan, his fingers closed tight around her hip as he rode out his own peak, breath stuttering against her neck. 

After they both caught their breath, his arm wound around her waist to grasp her breast. 

“I don’t normally do this, just so you know,” he mumbled into her neck, seeming almost bashful.

“Me, neither,” Sansa confessed, and they giggled nervously together before Jon seemed to relax into her back.

“You can stay here tonight if you want,” he whispered into her skin, but Sansa was already half asleep, drunk on her orgasms and his warmth.

The last thing she remembered was Jon pulling the coverlet up over the two of them, muttering to himself, “Maybe I should try new things more often.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa was very familiar with the green-eyed monster.

Harry had been a serial cheater, and spent every moment in public staring at some poor girl’s ass. Joffrey was just an asshole, and liked to shout lewd comments out of the passenger side of his best friend’s car at women walking down the street.

But watching Jon behind the counter, blending drinks while chatting a little too happily with one of his co-workers… this was different.

Sansa clutched her latte in front of her, trying not to visibly grimace when the girl brushed her entire front along him because there “just isn’t enough room in here!” She had to bite her tongue when Jon tossed her a bottle of whipped cream and she _winked_ at him. 

They weren’t dating yet, but Sansa felt more strongly about the way Jon watched this woman toss her honey-blonde braid over her shoulder than she had ever felt about Harry or Joff. 

Jon caught her eye again and smiled at her, and Sansa tried her best to smile back nonchalantly over the screen of her laptop. 

Margaery was right - she had taken to doing her homework in this Starbucks more often than anywhere else after she and Jon had hooked up that first time. And so what if it was nothing but hooking up? The sex was good - better than anything she’d had before - and Jon seemed happy with their arrangement. 

The blonde pressed up against him again so that she could lean around him and Sansa swore she felt steam coming out of her ears. 

_He’s not your boyfriend,_ Sansa chanted to herself, but now all she could see was the way they had been pressed together. She shut her laptop with more force than necessary and tossed it into her bag on the way out, making sure that she didn’t give Jon another glance. She didn’t think she could control her grimace if she did. 

She was two blocks away from the Starbucks and three blocks from her apartment when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

**You left without saying goodbye, sweet girl.**

She wanted to be the kind of girl who could leave him on read, but she was too angry. 

**You seemed pretty occupied.**

**Well, a job is a job. We were pretty slow, though, and I should get off in about 20 minutes. Do you wanna hang out?**

She couldn’t help herself then, and her fingers flew across the keys as she stomped down the pavement.

**I’m sure that blonde would be happy to hang out with you.**

Her phone didn’t buzz again for the rest of the walk home, and she let herself into her apartment, still stewing inside.

She really had no reason to be angry, and as Sansa began to rifle through her pantry for a snack, she could feel herself calming down.

Jon didn’t belong to her. They weren’t dating, or even exclusive. She hadn’t even thought to discuss that with him when they started fucking. She had no legitimate reason to be angry.

Yet the tight feeling in her chest wouldn’t go away. 

She had decided that chips and salsa were an appropriate snack to eat her feelings away and had just pulled the bag out when there was a knock on her door. 

When she looked through the peephole, she saw Jon standing there looking almost ashamed. 

Sansa pulled the door open a crack. “Can I help you?”

“Can I come in for a minute?”

_He is not your boyfriend._ “Sure.”

He had been in her apartment a few times before, but she assumed he had never paid attention to much because he was looking around like he had never seen her home before.

“You don’t normally just pop by like this,” she said casually, crossing to the fridge to find a jar of salsa.

“I wanted to talk about Val.”

“Val?”

“My coworker,” he supplied, still standing by the door. 

“Oh.” Sansa busied herself with pouring the salsa into a bowl, refusing to look at him. 

“She’s just a friend.”

“Just a friend,” Sansa echoed. “I don’t know how this is relevant.”

“Sansa…” he groaned, and she suddenly found him at her side, turning her around. “I know you were jealous.”

“I was not,” she defended herself, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Val is nothing to me. But you…” his eyes wandered down her body and back up, “you are everything.”

“I’m your fuck toy,” Sansa stated blankly, trapped in the cage of his arms. 

“You know this is more than that.” His breath ghosted along her neck and she shivered, still fully dressed. “I know you feel more for me than that.”

She was beginning to melt in his arms as he suckled on her neck, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear gently. “Admit it. You were jealous.”

“No.”

He bit her ear then, just enough to make her yelp. “You want me all to yourself.”

“I want no such thing,” she responded primly, despite the fact that his hand was tweaking her nipple over her shirt. 

“You want me to be yours.” His tongue slid across her collarbone, making her flush in the best way.

“We’re just friends.” Her breaths were coming shorter now as his mouth made its way across her chest, pausing only to pull her shirt over her head. 

“Would a friend do this for you?” One hand slid down into her leggings, brushing against the top of her sex.

“Depends on what kind of friend,” she gasped out, unwilling to give in just yet.

“Would a friend do _this_ for you?” His teeth scraped against the small of her waist and she squirmed, ticklish. 

“You’re my friend,” she pointed out, her hands clutching the countertop for support, and he chuckled as his nose nudged against her hip.

“I think we’re more than friends, Sansa.” He ripped her leggings down to the floor and buried his face in her, inhaling deeply. 

“Friends with benefits,” she protested weakly, letting her head tip back as his hand drifted over to part her folds. 

He hummed against her, pressing a kiss right above her sex, before reaching up to take her hand and carding it into his curls. “Which benefit would you like today?”

“This one,” she moaned, tugging his face into her. 

She groaned loudly when he pulled away, kissing her thighs instead. “You have to say it, sweet girl.”

“Please!” Sansa whimpered, his fingers tracing along the edges of her folds. “Please, Jon, please.”

“Tell me what you’d like.” His eyes gazed up at her, so dark they looked nearly black, and she whined wordlessly for a moment.

“Eat my pussy, Jon, _please_.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, stroking her gently before spreading her folds again and sliding his fingers up them, moving slickly between her pearl and her opening, diving in with one finger before pulling back and teasing her again. 

“I swear to god, Jon,” she mumbled, yanking on his curls to get him to focus in, and he chuckled against her skin before lapping at her with his tongue, making her toes curl already.

It wasn’t the first time he had done this for her, and she doubted it’d be the last. Every single time, it got better. 

The first time, she thought she had died for a moment. Joff refused to even entertain the idea, telling her that it was just “gross” to think of it. Harry had tried, but his patience wore out after thirty seconds and he told her it was just too difficult for him. Jon, though…

Jon was a master at patience, at drawing her out of her shell. When he circled her nub with his tongue, she cried out loudly. When his fingers started to pump in and out of her with a slick, wet sound, she keened quietly in the back of her throat. And when her peak began to spiral up around her, she practically wailed, both hands clamped down into his curls to hold him to her as her hips snapped into his mouth.

When she was finished, trembling and sweaty against the countertop, he brushed a kiss against her hipbone before standing up again.

“Never doubt again that there is anyone in my life but you,” he told her, clutching her face in his hands, and it was all she could do to nod weakly, eyes wide. “Consider this the beginning of our relationship, Sansa Stark, because I don’t want anyone but you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to make any promises about the smut week, but I am three for three so far! Hoping to continue the rest of the week, but no promises at all on my motivation.
> 
> Also, here's a link to the piece that inspired Sansa's outfit: https://goo.gl/Su2yRF

Jon wasn’t normally one to mix business with pleasure. 

The majority of his grading work was done at school, and he spent more time in the library or at work than he did at his apartment. Margaery loved it, crowing that he was _always_ available to help her with her history tests, although most of the time it got on Sansa’s nerves.

Today, however, his penchant to sit in his office until all hours of the night would come in handy.

Sansa hurried through campus, clutching her coat around her. It was late, close to 10, but she was nervous someone might see her even during the short walk from parking lot to Jon’s office - the location of which she had bribed out of Margaery with a promise of a spa night in the future.

She was almost more nervous than excited. Their relationship had been progressing more quickly than she was used to due to the fact that they were fucking before anything else, and she hoped she had the confidence to pull this off. 

She breathed a quick sigh of relief when the door to the building was still unlocked and found her way through the maze of hallways, wincing as the click of her heels echoed loudly.   
His door was closed, and like any polite student, she knocked quietly, holding her breath.

“Come in.” Jon’s voice sounded a bit bored, not at all surprised, and she wondered if he frequently had late night visitors. 

When she slipped inside and shut the door behind her, locking it quickly, she was happy to see a look of surprise on his face.

“Sansa. What are you doing here?” 

“Who else would be visiting you this late?” she purred, dropping her purse to the ground next to the door.

“Sometimes the other TAs pop in and… what are you wearing?” His eyes had wandered down to where she was toying with the tie on her coat, a knee-length rain jacket that her legs were bare underneath. 

“It’s called a coat, Jon,” she teased lightly, taking short, casual steps until she was leaning over his desk. “You should really consider wearing one instead of just layering sweaters on top of sweaters.”

“Sansa,” he groaned, his eyes still straying too low to meet hers. 

“Did you want to see what’s underneath it?” She had finally undone the tie and her hands strayed to the top button. His mouth had dropped open slightly, both his hands laying on top of the desk like he was scared of what he’d do if he took them off. 

Wordless, he nodded frantically at her, his eyes tracing down her legs to her tall black heels and back up to the hem of her jacket. 

When Sansa slid the jacket off her shoulders and dropped it on the floor behind her, she saw Jon visibly shudder and she wanted to grin triumphantly. 

She had picked this piece on her own, without any help from Margaery, and it seemed she had picked correctly. She had on a romper that was lace around her breasts and a loose mesh on the bottom, specifically chosen because it had a split on the bottom half so that she didn’t need to take it off for any reason. 

“Do you like it, Jon?” she murmured, pulling her hair over one shoulder and turning in a slow circle. 

He nodded again, his throat bobbing as she swallowed, and she casually walked around his desk until she was standing between his legs, his face level with her chest. 

She placed her finger underneath his chin, tipping his face up until his mouth was level with her nipple. When she urged him forward, he mouthed her over the lace, letting her nipple pebble underneath it.

One hand slid over her waist to plant itself firmly in the small of her back, pulling her closer until she was forced to straddle his lap for leverage. With only the stiff fabric of his slacks between them she could feel him pressed against her, hard and ready as he licked and nipped at the skin exposed between her breasts. 

As she caught her breath, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “It’s a shame your desk is so messy. I had an idea…”

Sansa barely got the words out before Jon stood up suddenly, holding her around the waist to guide her feet back to the ground gently. Sansa almost wanted to laugh at the concentrating look on his face as he deposited piles of papers, desk knick knacks, and finally his laptop onto the floor in haphazard stacks.

The laughter was gone, however, when he snatched her around the waist and spun her around, bending her over the desk in a flash. 

“Did you buy this for me, love?” he growled from behind her, running his fingers down the slit in the back before yanking her legs apart.

“Yes,” she breathed out, face warm against the wood. 

His fingers tickled against her before he plunged one inside her, making her gasp and writhe against the desk. She could hear the jingle of his belt as he pulled it off, and the fabric of his pants whispering as he slid them down.

Her heels had made her just too tall, so she was bent over at a strange angle so that she was laying on the desk, her ass high up in the air. 

Jon didn’t seem to mind, though, as he caressed the skin on her ass lovingly. “You picked well.”

His hand whistled down to crack against her ass and she whimpered, feeling the bloom of heat where his hand had struck. “Since you did so well, love, you can choose what happens next.”

“Fuck me,” she whispered, wriggling her hips in his direction. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel the brush of his legs against hers, the occasional spark of his fingers tracing her spine. 

“Right now?” His cock nudged against her entrance, hot and hard, and she moaned too loudly.

Jon pulled away from her, his hand stinging against her ass again. “You have to be quiet, unless you want someone to hear you.”

Sansa whimpered inaudibly, barely feeling his hand as he rubbed the sting away. 

“Can you be quiet, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Jon, _yes_.” 

She was rewarded with another nudge of his head against her, followed by the sweet feeling of him rubbing his cock up and down her folds, gathering her wetness at his tip. 

“If you make too much noise, we’ll have to stop. And you won’t want to stop, will you?”

“No,” she moaned, as quietly as she could, and he smoothed a hand down her spine again. 

“Good girl.”

He entered her slowly, giving her time to stretch around him, and she whined when she felt his hips settle against hers, a dark heat blooming in her stomach. 

He rocked a steady pace against her, and each thrust set her hips to digging into the wood of his desk. It was a sweet pain, though, and the wood grew warm against her body where she laid on it. 

She wanted to cry out when his pace slowed, needing more friction from him, and he only chuckled behind her and stroked her hair gently where it spilled down her back. 

She fought back with rapid twists and circles of her hips, creating the pace she craved so desperately from him, and she was pleased beyond belief when he groaned loudly behind her, twisting his hand into her curls to yank her back again and again. 

His fingers dug tightly into her hipbone, and she cried out from the pleasure-pain of it all. When she rose onto her elbows to give herself better leverage on the desk, he practically growled at her, fingernails digging into her. 

When he came, more quickly than she expected, it was with a clenched fist in her hair and nearly a roar as his hips pinned her to the desk, as deep inside her as he could be. 

She was covered in sweat and absolutely full of him, his cock twitching inside her as they caught their breaths, the tiny office full of heat. When he pulled out of her wetly with a shared moan, she straightened up and forced herself not to pant at him where he had collapsed back into his desk chair.

“I’ll see you later tonight at my place?” She pulled her coat back on, tying it off without bothering with the buttons, and he nodded blankly at her, eyes wide. 

Sansa shut his door quietly behind her and wore a shit-eating grin the entire way home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet drabble that fills days 5 and 5 - drunken antics and getting caught. 
> 
> I am terrible at responding to comments, but I read every one of them and I appreciate you all so much! Thank you for reading!

Sansa’s 21st birthday arrived with a certain amount of pomp and circumstance. 

She explicitly told Margaery she didn’t want to go out, and compromised with having a party at home instead. There would be copious amounts of wine, liquor, and inappropriate comments from Margaery and their combined brothers, but Sansa was ready for a healthy amount of alcohol-induced bonding.

It wasn’t even 6 by the time Margaery had the liquor flowing freely, and Sansa’s cup was always the first to be filled. Jon and Robb were conspiring against her, she was sure of it, because they kept shooting each other sly grins and then pouring more vodka into her mixed drinks when they thought she wasn’t looking. 

Theon was noisily making out with Jeyne in the armchair in the corner, twined around each other too tightly, and Sansa half-scoffed at them as she walked past the living room to go to the bathroom. 

She had just finished washing her hands when there was a soft knock on the door. 

“One sec!” she shouted at the door, hyper focused on how red her eyes looked in the mirror, when the door swung in on her and quickly shut again, leaving Jon inside. 

“You couldn’t wait until I was done?” she teased slightly, throwing her arms around his shoulders unsteadily, and he beamed back at her, a certain gleam to his eyes.

Sansa was well and truly drunk, but she wasn’t so toasted as to not recognize that Jon was drunk, too. 

“I couldn’t wait a moment longer,” he told her breathlessly. Sansa’s eyes strayed downward, the top three buttons on his shirt undone to expose the skin of his chest, and her grin felt positively feral. 

“Don’t keep me waiting, then.”

She felt like she was in a warm haze as Jon yanked her skirt up around her waist, hooking into the elastic of her panties to pull them down in the same breath. She scrambled backwards to brace herself on the sink, her legs dangling off heavily.

“I don’t intend to keep you waiting ever again.”

“Drunk you is so eloquent,” she teased him, her head tipped backward against the mirror, and she heard the telltale rasp of his zipper along with the bubble of laughter he let free. 

“Let’s see if I can live up.” He sank inside her in one deep thrust, causing them both to cry out. 

She didn’t think they’d ever fucked with so many clothes on and still felt so _close_. The front of his pants would be soaked by the time they were done, but it didn’t stop her from hooking her legs around his waist and pulling him deeper into her, letting her moans fall freely from loose lips.

Her hair was beginning to fall out of the loose topknot she had weaved it into, and Jon caught one of the strands as it fell, rubbing it against his cheek. 

“Your hair is always so _soft_ ,” he groaned between thrusts, and Sansa had to laugh again. 

“You’re balls deep in me and you’re thinking about my hair?”

“Hush,” he reprimanded her softly, giving her hair a little tug, and she whined in response. 

The bathroom was spinning as he plunged into her again and again, but it was almost pleasant. His skin was warm where it pressed against hers, and she found herself stroking the little triangle of his chest that was exposed by his undone buttons over and over, marveling at its smoothness.

Sansa nearly jumped out of her skin when there was a bang on the bathroom door, but his pace was unfaltering, driving her into the countertop again and again. 

“Occupied!” Jon managed to grunt out, his free hand fondling her breast eagerly, but the banging didn’t stop.

He had a hand pressed to her lips to quiet her cries, but it didn’t do much good for the low moans keening out of her throat at his deep thrusts. Jon’s thumb rubbed over the skin of her neck over and over, feeling the vibrations there, and she felt like she was floating. 

All of a sudden, the bathroom door slammed open, and she and Jon both froze instantly, his cock still plunged deep inside her.

“Oh,” Margaery said, a sly smile playing around her lips. “Carry on, but there’s a bed down the hall if you’d rather.” She shut the door behind her with a decisive click, calling through it, “Try to lock the door next time!”

“Fuck,” Sansa whispered, clutching Jon to her front nervously. 

“She knew what we were doing in here already. Damn voyeur,” Jon mumbled before withdrawing from Sansa to plunge into her again, groaning at the wet slap of their hips together.

“Wait. You want to keep going?” Sansa stroked his jawline, a quick smile spreading across her face.

“Fuck Margaery. I’m going to fuck you on this sink until you finish.”

“You wouldn’t rather the bed?” She pouted coquettishly, only breaking it to moan when he sank into her again.

“Why would we need a bed, when you’re wet and waiting for me right here?”

He fucked her steadily, quickly, pausing only to rub his thumb in a circle around her clit, and Sansa stopped caring about who could hear them, moaning loudly as the stars sparked behind her eyelids.

She whimpered as she tightened around him, his cock plunging deep inside her and staying there as she jerked her hips into him needily, riding her release and feeling him do the same through the ringing in her ears and the haze in front of her eyes.

She slid off the counter, pulling her skirt down a bit. “Where are my panties?”

“I think I’ll be keeping those for tonight,” he purred in her ear, and she let her eyes flutter shut. “Get back out there, birthday girl.”


End file.
